


stood on rocky shores, kept the beaches shipwreck free

by losebetter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode 2.37: Dangerous Liaisons, First Kiss, Fjord Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losebetter/pseuds/losebetter
Summary: And then Fjord does something that makes the worry and anger twisted in Caleb’s gut curl up tight enough to ache, to curious result: there’s a flash of polite panic in his features, something like vulnerability’s next cousin -- and Fjord’s gaze flicks down, just for a split-second, to Caleb’s lips. It only lasts half a breath, but it’s all Caleb needs.





	stood on rocky shores, kept the beaches shipwreck free

**Author's Note:**

> threw this together in one sitting today and posting before i lose my nerve... again. writing is difficult enough but posting publicly is absolutely terrifying? anyway here's a saucy makeout that turns into feelings, just for you! thank you to q & jaz for putting eyes on this before it shipped. <3 (heh. shipped.)
> 
> some spoilers for episode 37 about the captain whose name i _almost_ managed to avoid having to pretend i know how to spell.

He isn’t sure if Fjord is backing up for an easier line of sight to his face or if he’s that intimidated, but when Caleb realizes Fjord’s shoulders have bumped the wall, he leans back, just a touch. Fjord doesn’t look any more relaxed, as well he shouldn’t.

“You are still _lying_ to us,” Caleb hisses, and Fjord looks hurt, round eyes wide and soft.

“I’m not,” he begs quietly. He glances up to the ceiling, then the closed door, gaze skittering across Caleb’s face to avoid his eyes. Caleb knows him well enough to recognize when he’s trying to find the right words for something and coming up helpless. “I just don't know how - "

“ _Hhmph_ , shush,” he interrupts, holding up one hand still sticky with dirt. “Why go in the first place, then? Why subject yourself to that?”

“I wanted _information_ ,” Fjord explains, with a measure of his usual calm. He’s holding eye contact now as though desperate to reach an understanding, but Caleb is in no mood to be talked down. “I told y’all as much as soon as I came back, we have to _pretend_ \- "

“ - to be _interested_ in her?” Caleb finishes, jaw going taut - which is where his whole plan to pull Fjord aside and shake information out of him begins to feel like a horrible, horrible mistake. _Messy_ , comes a clipped tone in his head that sounds like the clinical grading of himself that used to be expected of him a lifetime ago, but he can’t seem to course-correct, head pounding. This is not how this interrogation was supposed to go. “ _Are_ you interested in her?”

Fjord flinches. “No? What - _no_ \- "

“ _Why not?_ " whips out in a snarl past Caleb’s teeth before he can stop it.

And then Fjord does something that makes the worry and anger twisted in Caleb’s gut curl up tight enough to ache, to curious result: there’s a flash of polite panic in his features, something like vulnerability’s next cousin - 

\- and Fjord’s gaze flicks down, just for a split-second, to Caleb’s lips. It only lasts half a breath, but it’s all Caleb needs. 

“I - I don’t know,” Fjord stammers, cagey. Catching that first glance was a gut punch enough; seeing it a second time is like a jolt to Caleb’s system. _He’s flustered_ , Caleb realizes. _No. No way_. But he has no argument past that, past _he can’t, this can’t be real_ \- 

“Wh - what does it matter?” he finally says, managing to spit out the question Caleb thinks he should’ve asked _first_. It’s what _he_ would’ve done, if he didn’t want to talk about this. If he wanted to keep secrets. If he wanted - _if, if, if_.

Caleb takes a moment to gather himself, realizing suddenly how tense he is, how the little half-step he’d taken away from Fjord disappeared in all of this, how he’s cornered Fjord in against the wall of the room with the questioning curve of his body and Fjord has let him. _If he wanted - if he wants_ -

This is not how this interrogation was supposed to go.

The pause pays dividends; apparently Fjord is too nervous to let the silence sit. “Caleb, look,” he tries. Caleb is looking. “I needed her to - I panicked, but I needed - " He doesn’t continue, just swallows hard enough that Caleb sees it nudge the pale of his throat.

The ship suddenly bobs - and for all it hadn’t been anything dramatic Caleb is determined not to stumble, braces his weight on light feet. His little sway is enough to concern Fjord, though, who reaches out reflexively to steady him with one hand hovering just shy of his hip.

They stand like that for another beat. Fjord’s hand doesn’t move away, but it does tremble.

“…I’m not sure if we’re on the same page here, Caleb,” Fjord breathes, pitched like thin glass and just as fragile. It sounds like he’d intended it as a warning.

Caleb feels his eyelids droop. His face is _burning_. _If he wants_ — _this is not how this_ — “What page is that?”

To his side, Fjord’s hand spasms. Caleb can feel the heat of his own shaking sigh pushing against the hot skin under Fjord’s collar. He doesn’t know when they got this close, but he can feel the strain in his legs from where he must be on his toes, the tension tilting him just enough to list against Fjord’s open palm.

It’s easy to imagine more stumbling explanations. It’s easier to imagine whatever they’re playing at snapping and falling apart. Somewhere far away he processes Fjord taking in a breath and leaning in, and it’s _still_ a surprise when Caleb feels the warmth of his lips - upper soft and lower widened by the shy push of tusks - against his mouth.

Caleb’s fingers twitch up but Fjord pulls away fast, damp breath rasping nervously against his chin.

And maybe it’s that Caleb has already seen Fjord without his shirt once tonight, has seen the expanse of gnarled skin flexed over his broad back, the muscle of his abdomen jumping under Jester’s far from cursory examination. Maybe it’s that he’d focused so hard for so long on Frumpkin’s disorienting bird’s-eye view in the captain’s quarters but the rest of his brain had moved too fast, imagined what he might see, thought of hands on Fjord’s belt and the stretch of his trousers over his thighs and neglected the other half of the equation - 

\- but when Fjord tries to demur from him further, Caleb latches onto the back of his head with both hands and yanks him in again, kissing the surprised arc of his upper lip and then adjusting to slip his tongue right in past it.

Fjord’s reaction is instant, if timid: his hand finally settles into a grip on Caleb’s waist - tightening when Caleb takes a shameless shot at making him shiver, tongue pressed flush to the roof of his mouth, then gentling with a soft, hollow hum. The ship rocks back to center like a metronome, and Caleb’s back arches in with it until his body is pinned to Fjord’s from belly to chest, slight sweat from the humidity sticking his thin shirt to hot skin.

There’s a hard thump as Fjord’s back hits the wall, and a rush of adrenaline makes Caleb immediately grateful that he’d steered Fjord to the far side of the room instead of the one adjacent to their fellows. He’s beginning to truly trust the Nein, but not with _this_.

They pull away from one another, and Caleb thinks that he might actually be the only one worried about such a thing. He’d seen Fjord’s face clearly in his dealings earlier in the evening, Frumpkin hopping silently over the rafters to give Caleb a perfect view of his smooth smirk, the play of candlelight over his striking features - and maybe he’d truly only wanted information after all, because the Fjord in front of him looks nothing like that.

His pupils are blown wide and dark, eyes hooded but focused sharply on Caleb’s face in a way that feels like deference - the amount of control that look puts in his reach is dizzying, and when Fjord pets a searing hand down the center of Caleb’s back, it takes all of his self-control not to cock his hips in against Fjord’s, too.

Fjord sinks down the wall and curls closer to him again, the smell of fruit and salt on his breath making Caleb’s throat catch on a dry gulp. He seems comfortable enough holding Caleb to him, but he hesitates on the edge of another kiss like he’s waiting for permission.

“You had - ” he grumbles, visibly fighting distraction, “ - y - you wanted to ask me - um…” Fjord meets his eyes from under his lashes, then goes back to staring at his lips, giving up. “What were you asking me?” he finishes bashfully.

It’s hopelessly endearing - and there’s a shuttered-off part of Caleb that wonders abruptly if this could be an act, as much one as the suave captain who’d gone toe to toe with Ivantika. The hurt strikes through him, stills under Fjord’s hands in a way he realizes belatedly must be immediately obvious - Fjord blinks slowly, then scans Caleb’s face for real.

Caleb doesn’t know what he sees, but he takes in a shallow breath at the feeling of Fjord’s head tucking under his chin, close-shaven temple tickling through Caleb’s beard.

“I’m sorry,” Fjord says in a rush, and Caleb pats the top of his back with his suddenly free hands, at a loss. Fjord’s ears twitch, the points drooping guiltily and giving him away even with his face hidden. “I don’t - I _really don’t know_ what’s going on with me,” he admits, misinterpreting Caleb’s silence. “Talking to her got me maybe half as many answers as it did new questions, if that. I’m tryin’ to stay on top of all of it, but it’s - it all just feels like some ghost story anyway, like some fairy tale happening to somebody else, and it’s _scary_ to - "

It’s a lot of information at once, and whatever had bolstered Fjord’s sudden burst of honesty apparently agrees. His voice had quaked on _scary_ and Caleb feels his lips move a little ways past it, but no more sound is forthcoming - after a beat, Fjord closes his mouth entirely.

If Caleb is truthful, it’s more than he’d expected to hear. 

_It’s_ hard _when you’re, you’re the only one experiencing it,_ he remembers all at once. Fjord’s tone had been thick with fear then, and his voice here and now clicks in Caleb’s head as a perfect match. _It’s hard to relay -_

_Why don’t you try?_ Caleb had asked then - and hadn’t he? _Hasn’t_ he?

He lets out a harsh breath through his teeth, the flash of betrayal disappearing with it. He tips his head down and flattens Fjord’s curls with a kiss before he can talk himself out of it, an apology for the cruel judgement he hadn’t voiced.

“It’s scary,” Caleb repeats. It doesn’t sound particularly encouraging, but Fjord relaxes against him anyway, evidently relieved to have been heard.

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” he insists again. “I don’t - like talking about it,” which is obvious enough to Caleb, “I’m not trying to keep secrets on purpose, but you all are dealing with so much of my horseshit already - the last thing I want to do is _add_ to it, so I tried to keep it on a sorta, relevant-to-the-group basis, but now apparently that’s just fuckin’ _everything_ \- "

“Fjord,” he interrupts, shifting to reach between them and lift Fjord’s head from his chest; his eyes look bright with what Caleb is trying not to acknowledge as unshed tears, but his cheeks are dry. “Fjord, it’s okay.” 

Apparently it’s his turn for admissions, because his fingers start to shake with nerves; he ignores them, shoves them back to cradle Fjord’s skull with thumbs hooked under his ears. “I - I care about… about this,” he manages, wincing under the weight of his own awkwardness. Hadn’t Nott just scolded him for this?

“I won’t hold back anything that would put the group in danger, I promise,” Fjord hurries to assure him - Caleb’s emotions gate-crash into a mess of _thank you_ and _I trust you_ and _why is he suddenly treating me like_ I _am the leader here,_ and it takes him a moment to shake them off and get to the point. His fingers idly curl in against Fjord’s shaved head, and something that Caleb instinctually wants to call a purr jumps to the front of his throat and stuns him nearly to distraction. Fjord smiles sheepishly, ears twitching up, but doesn’t explain any further. _Fair enough. Okay._

“I… believe you,” Caleb admits haltingly - he grimaces as his next words stick in his throat even harder. “But I meant this - nnrgh, I meant that I care… ah.”

He meets Fjord’s eyes, hoping to see something in them that means he won’t have to finish that thought - what he gets instead is the true, quiet force of his complete attention, his features open and encouraging, and he’s speaking again before he realizes he’s opened his mouth.

“I care about you.” Fjord’s broad hands on his waist and back suddenly tense up, though his grip doesn’t turn hard, still only guiding, steadying. It’s enough to drag Caleb’s stuttering confession to its conclusion: “I worry about you. That’s all.”

Fjord’s brows draw in, expression an obvious mix of _why_ and _don’t_ and the memory of _people haven’t done me many kindnesses in my life_ ; his lips part on what Caleb can sense is going to be an argument, and on impulse Caleb presses in and kisses them like he’d only just remembered he’d been allowed before.

It’s short and warm and makes his hold on Caleb finally tighten, hands slipping around to let his thick arms rest against Caleb’s back in an embrace - when they break apart, Caleb tonguing his bottom lip to disconnect an embarrassingly stubborn streak of spit from Fjord’s, his expression has softened into that same deference as earlier.

“But that’s alright,” he says. Fjord’s worry returns in the form of a wrinkle on his forehead, and Caleb smoothes one hand back to his hairline to thumb over it. “As long as we are on the same page, _ja_?”

His skin is too dark for Caleb to tell when he’s blushing, but Fjord still looks suddenly flustered, eyes wide at his phrasing. Caleb allows himself a smirk, but doesn’t anticipate the charm of Fjord’s sweet little grin in response, and he bites his lip.

“Yup,” Fjord confirms, bumping noses with him with a sort of boyish confidence before pulling away to meet his eyes. “Figurin’ it out as we go, right? Makin’ it work.”

Caleb isn’t proud of it, but he gasps - too close and too loud in the hush of the room to act like it hadn’t happened. His chest touches Fjord’s, who seems to realize he’s said the right thing and pulls him in even closer, leaning down to mouth tantalizingly at Caleb’s neck.

“J - _ja_ ,” Caleb breathes. He pushes the hand at Fjord’s forehead back through his hair, curls springing along behind his palm. “Yes, we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is obviously from they might be giants' _birdhouse in your soul_. (´△｀)♪ there's a picture opposite meeee~
> 
> feel free to say hey on [twitter](http://twitter.com/losebetter) or [tumblr](http://losebetter.tumblr.com)!


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